by Plague Jack
“I’m sorry,” said Gabriel, jarring her from sleep. Minerva cracked an eyelid to see her husband sitting naked on the edge of the bed, the eye pendant between his hands. “I did what you wanted,” he continued. “I drove the Vaetorians out of Amernia. Weakened them just like you asked. What more do you want?”
“Do not lie,” said a deep voice from the glowing eye. “You are not the loyal servant you promised. You did those things not because I asked, but because you sought revenge for your dead parents. You could have driven the Vaetorians out on your own. Fought your own battles. Instead you sought my help, and you owe me a debt.”
“A debt I will not pay,” said Gabriel, angry. “You ask too much. I will not sacrifice my own men to a forgotten god.”
“You agreed to repay me,” said the pendant, its eye dilating. “You and I made a deal: I would see to it the Vaetorian reinforcements never arrived in Amernia, and you would give me what was owed. The deal was made in blood. Blood for blood, Gabriel—blood for blood.”
“I don’t need to listen to you,” said Gabriel as he stood up and paced around the bedroom. “Why should I? This is Amernia, Cambrian’s land. You have no power here, forgotten one.”
The eye laughed, and the room seemed to shake as it did. Minerva’s heart was pounding with fear, but still she pretended to sleep. “You think you are special, boy?” said the eye. “Do you know how many kings have come before you? You know nothing. This is my universe, my planet, my country. The other gods are but infants next to me. I am their maker and I will be their destroyer, just as I will be yours. You have fathered a son tonight, little Gabriel.”
“I have?” asked Gabriel, a hint of fear curling at the edges of his voice. “How do you know that?”
“I can feel him,” said the eye. “While your pretty little wife pretends to sleep. She will be the carrier, but not the mother,” said the old god.
“What are you talking about?” said Gabriel, holding the amulet up to his face.
“Goodbye, Gabriel,” it said. “We will not meet again. Minerva, however… I’ll be seeing you soon.”
The Queen sat up in fear as the eye went silent. “What was that?” she asked. Gabriel ignored her.
“What do you mean we won’t meet again?” he asked. “Talk to me!” he said, and in his frustration he threw the eye at the wall. It burst in a puff of smoke while purple flame enveloped the metal with a piercing shriek that echoed off the bedchamber’s walls and rattled bone.
Minerva awoke with a cold sweat dripping down her body. Eldred’s sleeping potions no longer worked, and her nights had become increasingly tormented. Joseline slept curled up at the end of her bed, in a ball like a cat or dog. Minerva slipped from the sheets and walked over to her wardrobe. She stripped naked and used her balled-up nightgown to clean the sweat from her flesh.
It’s only natural I should be falling apart with the kingdom, she thought, putting on a dress and furs. “Wake up, Joseline,” said Minerva, rustling the sleeping girl by the shoulder. Joseline’s hair was now thick and red like her aunt’s.
A green eye flicked open. “I want to sleep, auntie,” said the girl. “I’m tired.”
“Get up,” ordered the Queen. “We’re going to visit Eldred.”
“Again?” asked Joseline. “We visited him a few days ago.”
“And we are this night as well. Come, now—get up,” the Queen ordered. “I’m not leaving you alone in here. It’s not safe.” Joseline had been becoming increasingly unruly as she was cooped up in the Queen’s chambers. Minerva would have none of that tonight.
“Fine, but you don’t think anywhere is safe,” whined Joseline, climbing out of bed.
“That’s because nowhere is,” said Minerva, watching as Joseline fumbled about for her shoes. “You’re forgetting something.”
“Oh, my slingshot!” said Joseline.
“Yes. Your slingshot. It’s in your bag on the dresser.”
“I know where I left it,” said Joseline, as she grabbed the green purse embroidered with silver horses. “I’m not stupid, you know,” said Joseline.
“No,” said the Queen, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “No, you’re not. Let’s just go. I need to speak with Eldred.”
“Minerva and Joseline,” said Eldred as they entered the laboratory. “Visiting again? What a surprise. And I thought you only visited three times a week…”
“We need to talk,” said the Queen, with a tone that drove the smile from the old hellion’s face. Joseline retreated into the dimly lit laboratory and began picking through the clockwork prototypes.
“Yes, yes, very well. How goes the ransom of Norfield?”
“Not well,” said Minerva, her face grim.
“Did you bring Pierah’s letter this time? I would like to hear the story of events in her own words.”
The Queen reached into her furs and pulled out a bundle of letters. “I received these from Braddock this morning,” said the Queen.
“Read them to me,” said Eldred, “and I’ll tell you what I make of them.”
Minerva found the first letter. “Dear Queen Roselock,” she began, her voice devoid of emotion. “My name is Pierah. You may know me better as the hellion that slew Phineas. He got what he deserved. You sent the Bottler after me, and he has since defected to the Wild Hunt. We now control Norfield, all thanks to the Bottler. A large number of your men have been captured, and I promise you they will not be harmed. I do not seek to eradicate humans, but rather to force you to listen to our pleas. Norfield will remain in the Wild Hunt’s control until you attempt negotiations. If you refuse to negotiate peacefully we will continue our conquest. Here’s hoping it doesn’t come to that. Sincerely, Pierah.”
“Well, she sounds rather pleasant,” said Eldred.
“Braddock’s spies say Calcifer summoned a swarm of hummingbirds and nearly destroyed the city. Apparently it was Pierah who stopped him. I want you to explain how this happened.”
“What don’t you understand?” said Eldred, leaning back on his coral-like tendrils pulsing with red light.
“Since when can sorcerers burn eighty men at a time? Since when can they turn stone to life and block out the moon? I’ve been around the gods’ chosen my entire life and the reports coming out of Norfield are madness.”
Eldred sighed. “The answer lies with Cambrian.”
“Is he giving them more power? Has the Life-Bringer started a crusade against me?”
“He could have; I simply don’t know. I do have a theory as to why the Bottler and Pierah are so enormously powerful. For the past two hundred years Amernia has maintained a balanced number of twelve sorcerers. When one died, or went rogue, Cambrian would create a new sorcerer by bringing a chosen one back from the dead. As a group, these sorcerers were fairly mediocre. Nonetheless, they still provided Cambrian a way to interact with the world from his place of imprisonment. We also know that sorcerers draw their power from Cambrian directly. Let’s say Cambrian’s sharable power is represented by the number one hundred. If he has twelve sorcerers and power is divided amongst them equally, that means they each get roughly eight point three three three units of? magical power or mana each. After the complete conversion of nearly all Cambrian’s chosen into hellions during the Green War, I think he became much more particular as to who he gives his gift to. As far as you and I know there are currently two non-mutated sorcerers in Amernia. If we divide again from Cambrian’s theoretical power pool of one hundred, we find that both Calcifer and Pierah are estimated to have fifty mana each, making them around six times as powerful as anything Amernia has seen in a very, very, long time. I’m sorry if that was a bit dizzying, my Queen, but understanding math is the closest we can come to understanding the universe itself.”
“Your hellion busters failed,” snapped Minerva. “They were supposed to put the hellions down before they took the city. Norfield should still be mine. In the hands of the Wild Hunt there will be famine. If there is famine I will have to steal from the
poor to feed my army. If the poor rampage they will rip my country out from under me.”
“The failure of the hellion busters was not my fault,” Eldred said. “This big brain of mine lets me see everything they see. My machines were abandoned for most of the battle. If they had been released in time, things may have gone differently.”
“So you’re telling me that I lost Norfield to human error?” she growled.
“Precisely. Norfield wasn’t the first battle lost to carelessness. It won’t be the last.”
Minerva’s jaw clenched as she began to read a different letter. “Dear Minerva,” it began. “You may have heard rumors about me recently. Or, if my men have done their job, you have not. I have met with the leaders of the Wild Hunt personally and I have convinced them to engage in peace talks, to be held at Harpy’s Point. Their leader is a man named Salus. I cannot speak for his character but he has agreed to my terms. There are reasonable men amongst the Wild Hunt. Harpy’s Point awaits you or your emissary. I will not let there be another Green War.”
“Oh, Veronica,” said Eldred sadly. “It has been some years since I last saw Evrill, although we still messaged by sprite. Amernia owes her much.”
She was good to me, thought the Queen. She was good to everyone.
“Dear Margot Braddock,” the Queen began, burying her feelings deep inside, where she kept all unpleasant things. “I was attending my faux post as a city guard when suddenly, to my surprise, Clark Pendragon appeared at the city gates. Now this was quite a shock to me, because, despite having heard the rumors of his survival, I had never quite believed them. Being the competent agent I am, I of course offered to escort him through the city. He was in a hurry to speak to Quintero—about what, I can only imagine. He did mention being prisoner to the Wild Hunt, which makes me think he could have turned traitor. I saw him again days later and he practically trampled me as he fled the city. Something spooked him or there was somewhere else he needed to be. I had him followed and will tell you more when it is known.
“It’s marked with a blue Z,” said the Queen.
“Has Quintero confirmed meeting with Pendragon? Obviously he did, but I’m curious if he’s been honest.”
“No word from Quintero, but Braddock’s spies haven’t reported anything suspicious. I don’t think he will betray me. It would be a poor financial decision. The next letter is from Harpy’s Point. Queen Roselock,” began Minerva, her voice trembling slightly. “Evrill’s plan for peace has backfired. She has been taken hostage by the Wild Hunt. It is believed that Harper O’Connor was spotted with them as a hostage. We do not expect Salus to kill his hostages, but what he wants has not been made clear. Aid may be requested.”
“You and I both have made the mistake of underestimating the Wild Hunt, Minerva. To take Harpy’s Point with so few men is nothing short of tactical brilliance or blind stupid luck. But they’re also reckless. Be patient and they’ll slip and fall into your hands.”
“There is one more letter,” said Minerva. “Dear Queen, you don’t know me but I know you. My name is Salus and you’ll no doubt have heard quite a lot about me in these past few weeks. In the coming months my name will become synonymous with many things. Hopefully if it is related to anything at all it will be victory. I now control the north: Harpy’s Point and Norfield are mine to do with as I please. You shouldn’t be surprised, really, darling. You brought this upon yourself. I have some of your old friends here with me now; they’re staring right at me. A little worse for the wear, I’m afraid, but the tar keeps them from rotting. Three out of five nobles is a good start. Phineas, Evrill, and Pendragon. I intend to add more heads to my collection before this is all over. But not yours. I promised Pendragon I wouldn’t kill you and I am a man of my word. I have something special planned for you, my Queen. I’ll be seeing you soon enough. Signed Salus. P.S. I had your spymaster deported.”
“The deaths of Evrill and Pendragon are regrettable. Phineas was competent but too socially inept. Your leadership in these coming months must be stalwart.”
“Of course it must. Do you think me an idiot?” Minerva shouted, and Joseline looked up from her exploring, wide-eyed.
“Calm down,” said Eldred. “History’s rulers have fought harder battles and won. You still control the south, and if you’re careful you’ll keep it.”
“He just took two of my cities!” shouted the Queen. “My two cities that were supposed to be inpenetrable! Three of my dukes are now dead. Two of which were my closest supporters. Pendragon and Evrill deserved better.”
“Then martyr them,” said Eldred. “Make their names a rallying cry to embarrass the Wild Hunt and force the south to flock to your banner.”
“I’ll have to,” said Minerva. “The letters suggest Pendragon was working with the Wild Hunt… I’ll have Braddock cover the evidence, and make it seem as if Pendragon was spying for me the whole time.” Dammit, Evrill, why did you have to be so naive? “I’ll need something else,” said Minerva. “Something else to make me look good.”
“I have just the thing,” said Eldred. “I got the Nixus cleaner working. In a month, and given the supplies, I should be able to replicate the prototype and get them up and running.”
The Queen smiled despite the feeling of pain in her chest. Surely Pendragon wouldn’t have defected? Am I that vile a creature? She tried not to think of letters exchanged with Evrill through dark times.
“You look like you might cry,” said Joseline, appearing out of nowhere and staring accusingly at Minerva.
“Don’t be stupid,” snapped Minerva. “A queen never cries. Eldred, I want those Nixus cleaners ready in two weeks. I also want you going into overtime creating more sentinels. A cheaper model that can be rapidly deployed to keep order. I want them on every street corner and I want them as soon as possible.”
Eldred smiled. “Every street corner, you say? The best thing about war is the innovation it enables. I’ll get working on a prototype immediately, but it shouldn’t take long.”
“It had better not. I’m giving you free rein, Eldred. I want you to unleash your creations and show the subhumans the might of our race, and show the world what Amernia is capable of.”
“This could backfire.”
“I want to turn Voskeer into a city of the future, unlike anything that has come before it. Let our technological achievements and culture shine brighter than ever, while our soldiers push the Hunt back into the Nixus fields.”
Eldred smiled wide and laughed. “I’ve been waiting for that invitation for the past twenty-five years. Gabriel would have never been so bold, but Gabriel is also dead. What if the reverse is true, Minerva? What if, in your attempts to show off your power, you scare more of your own people into turning against you?”
“Then they aren’t my people,” said the Queen.
“Good,” said Eldred. “Then I’ll begin immediately.”
Epilogue
I had the privilege of meeting a man who had been to the Congress Hall… that obsidian tower in the heart of the sea. Apparently he had been there while serving as a guard to the Sun Emperor during one of Congress’s yearly visits. I didn’t pressure him for the details of that particular meeting—Congress is tiresome. Instead I asked him what he, a soldier of two decades, thought of the place. He looked me dead in the eye and told me it scared him worse than any battle he’d ever fought. I must learn more about this place.
—Harold Thule, Archipelago and Its Conjoined Past.
The ripper wove its web, just as it had every night, between a pair of white woods whose trunks were as thick as a ship. Carefully she collected the corpses she had caught the night before—several bats, a deer, and a dwarf—and dragged them up a tree trunk one by one. She heard the twang of the elf’s bow before the arrow struck her, pinning her black carapace to the tree. The ripper shrieked and struggled. “Who did this to me?” she howled. Her eight spindly legs, each as thick as a sword, tore bark from the tree trunk as she desperately tried to free hersel
f.
“Calm down,” demanded Adan, drawing his scimitar, which glowed silver in the moonlight. “I don’t want you alerting your sisters. Be quiet or I’ll silence you for good.”
“What do you want?” hissed the ripper, green goo dripping from her arrow wound as she struggled against the tree. “You here for the bounty?”
“Coins are cheap,” said Adan. “I need something more valuable. Information.”
“Pull the arrow out, please. It hurts so bad. Pull it out,” said the ripper, “and I’ll share. I’ll share anything you want to know. Just let me go. Please, the pain…”
“First you talk,” said Adan, “then I’ll see about removing that arrow. I need to find your mother. I have something I think she’ll be interested in.”
“Lies!” snapped the ripper. “You just want to kill her. Put her in the dirt, and cut off her head to get the bounty. Always they come for the bounty. Why can’t they leave us alone?”
“That’s why,” said Adan, pointing to the dwarf corpse hanging from a tree branch, wrapped in sticky white web. “There is no bounty on your mother. Few know she exists. The bounties are for her children. Meaning you and your sisters. I don’t need any more coin,” he said, holding up the runic tankard, its red runes reflecting in the ripper’s eyes. “You recognize this, don’t you?”
“The Bottler’s bottle!” said the ripper before shrieking in fear. “You’re the Bottler, here for the? mother and father. Leave them alone, you bad, bad man. You won’t do to them what you did to my brothers and sisters!”
Adan laughed and pushed back his short black hair. “I’m not the Bottler. I’m far too old and tired. No. I made a deal with your mother long ago. My life for a favor. I’m here to repay that debt. Can you take me to her?”
